KILLER T

by Robert Muchamore

‘Cab’s on me,’ Mango said. ‘It’ll burn some guilt for not sticking up for you.’

  Mango didn’t have a spare helmet and Charlie’s fears swung between falling off if she wasn’t holding on, and squashing the unborn if she held too tight. But the ride was over in five, and Charlie got the same confused vibe she’d had with Harry in the posh restaurant as she read the menu of the bright orange Juice Jet counter.

  Wheatgrass Wings, After Gym and Tonic, Raspberry Ketone Tipple, Kale Blast, Honey and Ginseng Hangover Blitz …

  Charlie was about to offer to pay when she realised that the cheapest blend was nine bucks.

  ‘What can I get you?’ Mango asked.

  ‘I’m good,’ Charlie said, freaked by the prices. ‘Maybe just get me the Uber if that’s OK.’

  ‘Chill,’ Mango said, firm but smiling. ‘Keep me and Junior company until you’ve calmed down.’

  ‘Is there, like … Regular juice, or something?’

  Mango pointed at the menu. ‘Almond Sunset is a good one. It’s a creamy almond milk base with orange, coconut and cocoa. Most of these drinks have more calories than a Snickers bar, but us moms like to dress in sportswear, load an all-terrain stroller in the SUV and come here to pretend we’re healthy …’

  ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ Charlie asked warily.

  Rather than join the six-strong queue, Mango led Charlie to one of the few empty tables and pulled out her phone.

  ‘Check this app,’ Mango said, moving her chair round the table so Charlie could see.

  ‘Is it like McDonald’s, where you order from your phone?’ Charlie asked.

  But it wasn’t an online ordering app, with the bright colours and corporate branding. The screen was black, and covered with tiny lines of code and a hash prompt, like an old-school computer.

  ‘Staff take the orders on the left,’ Mango explained quietly, pointing to the line at the register. ‘Everything on the payment side is secure. One-twenty-eight-bit encryption, credit card and NFC data handled securely. But you see that other terminal, that shows the drink orders to the mixers? It links to the register using WiFi. There’s no encryption whatsoever.’

  To make her point, Mango tapped a code into her phone and the screen split.

  ‘The top half shows the current queue of customer orders. You’re seeing exactly what the two staff mixing drinks see. Now, all I do is tap an order number and two product codes, and …’

  Charlie saw an order for Almond Sunrise and Maternal Bliss appear as order seventy-three in the drinks queue.

  ‘Neat,’ Charlie said, wary, because trouble seemed to seek her out. ‘So you’re a hacker?’

  ‘I hoped I’d catch you with my bike, because you remind me of myself as a teenager,’ Mango explained. ‘You made explosives. I worked out how to clone my seventh-grade gym teacher’s cell phone and credit card. Then I went online and arranged to have all kinds of crazy stuff delivered to his house.’

  Charlie smiled. ‘Did you ever get caught?’

  Mango nodded. ‘Things got heavy when I was seventeen. I helped an environmental group find and release a secret Department of Energy report on fracking. I had FBI agents raiding my parent’s house at 3 a.m. We were well off. My dad fixed up a great attorney and I pled down to a misdemeanour charge. I was sentenced to two hundred hours teaching computer skills to San Francisco homeless. It was in one of the first maker spaces, and that’s how I got into teaching kids coding and engineering.’

  ‘Do you work in IT now?’

  Mango shook her head. ‘My wife and I have a baked-goods business. We do specialist cakes and breads. And we have vans that we send out to music festivals and big public events.’

  ‘Sounds like hard work,’ Charlie said.

  ‘I’ve had a lot of fun teaching kids over the years,’ Mango said. ‘We did a battle robot course with ten- to thirteen-year-olds at Maker’s Yard this summer. I had a team, and your Texan friend Marc ran the opposition. We didn’t officially split boy-girl. But you know how kids are: all the boys went with good ol’ Marc and the girls with me and my pink hair.

  ‘Each team built three robots, and we smashed the boys! We had a robot with a hydraulic hammer. One hit and the boys’ robot disintegrated. Some of the kids were mortified, but it was worth it for the look on Marc’s idiot face.’

  Charlie laughed noisily.

  ‘Some of the girls who were seven or eight when I first moved to Nevada are at college doing programming or engineering now. I’m really proud of that.’

  ‘Sounds awesome,’ Charlie said, enjoying the story, though it made her feel worse about being kicked out of Maker’s Yard. ‘So is Junior your first?’

  ‘I’ve got a boy and a girl, three and five,’ Mango explained. ‘And, as a matter of fact …’

  ‘Order seventy-three,’ a guy behind the counter shouted.

  Charlie felt edgy as she walked to the counter and grabbed the illicitly ordered smoothies. Mango kept talking as Charlie dug in a straw and sucked her first mouthful of Almond Sunset.

  ‘I’ll need time off when the baby comes,’ Mango said thoughtfully. ‘We could probably use someone like you, if you’re looking to earn some cash.’

  ‘Baking cakes?’

  ‘We’re not exactly the Sara Lee Corporation,’ Mango said. ‘Everyone does a bit of everything.’

  ‘I could certainly do with some extra cash,’ Charlie said, but then her voice dropped. ‘But I got suspended from school, three days in. I might be back at White Boulder this time tomorrow.’

  ‘Harsh,’ Mango said, between sips of juice. ‘How’s Almond Sunset?’

  ‘Quite gritty,’ Charlie said. ‘Nice, though.’

  ‘Tell you what, Charlie, how about I give you my cell number? If things do go your way tomorrow, we could find you a part-time job …’

  ‘That’s kind,’ Charlie said as she pulled out her phone to take the number. ‘I guess you never know …’

  Mango’s offer reminded Charlie that there were decent people in the world, and she felt less desperate on the Uber ride back to OIL. A pint of Almond Sunset had worked through by the time she reached the automatic door and she dashed for her room.

  ‘Hey!’ the woman behind reception shouted, leaping from her seat. ‘Croker, get back here!’

  ‘Sorry, I’m busting,’ Charlie said, assuming she was going to get told off for not using the anti-virus gel.

  ‘Ken Kleinberg was looking for you,’ the woman said, from behind her desk.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Charlie asked, slathering her hands in gel from the dispenser.

  ‘Your support worker,’ the woman explained, peering over her glasses as if Charlie was a fool. ‘He’s been getting it in the ear from some lawyer up at Swallow Park. You’re supposed to register your cell number with your support worker before going out after 5 p.m. And you can’t join non-school groups or organisations without his permission.’

  ‘How was I supposed to know that?’ Charlie said, as the woman peeled a sticky note off the frame of her monitor. ‘Ken was off sick when I arrived. Should I call him now?’

  ‘Ken said you’re confined to this building until he’s seen you. And I wouldn’t want to be in those grubby little sneakers when he does.’

  26 LANA’S TINY FEET

  Harry went back to Matt’s house after running club. It lacked the spectacle of his aunt’s mountainside home, but Harry’s best friend did have the twin advantages of a giant video projector screen that filled an entire wall of his bedroom, and Lana, his beautiful girlfriend, who sat scoffing Pringles in a swing chair anchored to the ceiling.

  ‘So, this is the voicemail I was telling you about,’ Harry said, pressing play to set off a terse, gravelly male voice. ‘Tell me what you think.’

  ‘Mr Smirnov, you don’t know me, but I’ve heard things about Vegas Local, including the fact you don’t take ads from Janssen Group. I can give you a huge story about the Janssens’ Fremont Street casino. It could blow a big hole in their oper
ations. I’m not looking for money, just someone who can give the story the airing it deserves before the Janssens get wind and shut it down. I might not be in town for much longer, so call me on this number as soon as you can.’

  ‘He sounds really frightened,’ Lana observed.

  Harry nodded in agreement. ‘When I called back, the number was dead. I know a guy who knows a guy who can get details out of cell-phone companies. He said it was a twenty-dollar burner phone, purchased at an Exxon station last week.’

  Lana seemed intrigued. ‘Can the journalists at Vegas Local track him down?’

  Matt laughed. ‘Harry is the journalist at Vegas Local.’

  ‘Most of our writers are local people, who get a cut of the ad revenue if their articles get more than five thousand views,’ Harry explained. ‘There’s my co-owner, Ellie, but he’s based in San Francisco. Ads and coupons are sold by two ad guys who work from home and our app and website development is done by Ngoc and Thanh in Hanoi.’

  Lana looked surprised. ‘I thought a popular site like Vegas Local would have an office, and full-time journalists.’

  Harry shook his head. ‘Ellie calls it the Super-Lean Business Model. The trick to getting people to keep visiting the site and clicking ads is lots of coupons and discounts, plus curating the homepage so that there are new stories twice a day. A mix of upbeat news, scary crime and funny pet videos seems to work best.’

  ‘Pure exploitation,’ Matt said mischievously. ‘Harry funds his lavish lifestyle with cheap labour and locals writing articles for a few dollars.’

  ‘Up your hole,’ Harry said, giving Matt the finger, while simultaneously feeling guilty because his friend was close to the truth.

  ‘It’s amazing, though,’ Lana said. ‘Sixteen and you own a chunk of a super-successful website.’

  ‘Evil capitalist!’ Matt said, laughing and making whip-cracking sounds.

  ‘Mind if I grab a Coke?’ Lana asked.

  ‘Help yourself,’ Matt said.

  ‘Anyone else want anything?’

  Lana was also a member of the running club. Her little feet were red and chafed, and Harry decided they were cute as she padded off to the kitchen.

  As soon as Lana was out of earshot, Matt crawled across his bed towards Harry and spoke words of warning.

  ‘Remember what happened to your balls the last time you pissed the Janssens off.’

  ‘I know,’ Harry said, not enjoying the reminder, ‘but I’m way more experienced now. I get a lot of crank tips and calls, but that guy sounded properly scared and too many people in this town turn a blind eye to all the shit the Janssens pull …’

  Matt shrugged. ‘If I were you, I’d stick to Ellie’s money-making formula. I know you’re after your Pulitzer Prize, but my burger-flipping ass wouldn’t be making waves if I was taking seven big ones a month from traffic accidents, girl-scout fundraisers and coupons for ground beef.’

  ‘I’ve told you before, if you give Fatburger the elbow, you can have a job helping me out.’

  ‘Couldn’t handle having you as my boss,’ Matt said. ‘And if you wouldn’t mind making your excuses when Lana gets back.’

  Matt made a sex gesture with his fingers. Harry nodded like it was no big deal but felt crazy jealous. Matt’s moody-Goth act and soulful green eyes had brought him to a point where he’d switched from boasting about sexual conquests to downplaying them to protect Harry’s feelings.

  ‘It’s all about confidence, buddy,’ Matt said soothingly. ‘Just be cool when Charlie comes to your place on Saturday.’

  Harry had opened the Uber app to book his ride home when Lana stepped back in and yelled.

  ‘Oh, that is so gross!’

  Matt had his projector set on Cox Sport’s news, and despite the picture stretched from skirting to ceiling, the sound was down to a murmur and neither he nor Harry had noticed the horribly snapped leg of the college football player onscreen.

  A slow-motion replay showed a defensive mix-up, enabling a gigantic middle lineman to plough through a gap. The quarterback’s cleat dug into soft ground as he threw a short pass, which meant his leg didn’t give as the four-hundred-pound lineman hit it hard.

  ‘That must be so painful,’ Matt gasped. ‘The bone’s sticking out.’

  ‘Is that Texas Midland?’ Harry said excitedly. ‘Turn the sound up.’

  Matt was already going for the remote on his bedside table and wound back forty seconds.

  ‘I don’t want to see it again, you sickos!’ Lana protested, shielding her eyes as Matt hit play.

  ‘It’s JJ Janssen,’ Harry said, reading the name on the back of the quarterback’s shirt, as Matt turned up the volume.

  ‘Viewer discretion is advised for the following images, which come from our live Wednesday game currently showing on CS3. Texas Midland’s rookie quarterback, JJ Janssen, was on an excellent six and zero start to the season. But this freak injury in the derby game with Austin Roadrunners will end his first season as starter.’

  ‘How can you look at that?’ Lana moaned.

  Matt and Harry ignored the protest as the story went past the point where Matt had rewound.

  ‘After the incident, there was a bizarre twist. Midland fans took offence at four-hundred-and-thirty-pound lineman Perry Addison high-fiving team mates, while JJ Janssen was given oxygen and placed on a stretcher. Among those offended was Janssen’s wife, who decided to take things into her own hands …’

  Matt, Harry and Lana all gawped as they watched a tall woman stagger on to the muddy football field with a folding chair held above her head.

  ‘Charlie’s sister, Fawn!’ Harry blurted.

  ‘It’s like WWE!’ Matt howled, laughing hard.

  Despite high-heeled boots on a muddy field, Fawn got close enough to swing the chair at the 400lb lineman, glancing the back of his head, before getting tackled by security staff in fluoro-pink jackets. Fawn’s Midland shirt got ripped at the neck and her face hit the mud as the crowd went bananas.

  Lana had uncovered her eyes and joined Matt, laughing at the footage of Fawn being dragged away. But Harry had stopped laughing, because JJ and Fawn were Vegas natives, and he had a hot story.

  Licensing the clip from the National College Football Association would cost thousands of dollars, and Vegas Local would get sued if they used it without permission. Harry’s task was to make a front-page article for Vegas Local which looked official, but opened the video of the incident in a window from another website.

  ‘This could be the biggest story of the year,’ Harry said happily, logging into the Vegas Local content-management system with his phone. ‘Plus, it’s an out-of-state game, so with any luck nobody else is watching and I can have this on Vegas Local ahead of all our rivals. Should easily clock half a million article views, which is a minimum three thousand dollars of ad revenue …’

  Lana was impressed, watching over Harry’s shoulder as he rapidly tapped a four-paragraph story, embedded a link to the horror-tackle video on Cox Sport’s website, added keywords for search engines and coupons for a local sporting goods store and a solar-energy installer.

  ‘I can improve the story and maybe buy some photos later,’ Harry explained to Lana. ‘Right now, the job is to get this online fast, so that people who see the story go to our site, not someone else’s.’

  ‘If you ever need an assistant,’ Lana suggested brightly. ‘This stuff is so cool!’

  ‘But you have to leave now, don’t you, Harry,’ Matt said with the subtlety of a truck crashing through a storefront. ‘Isn’t it easier to polish this up at your place, on your laptop?’

  ‘Uber’s almost here,’ Harry said, standing up. ‘I’ll wait out front, give you two peace and quiet.’

  ‘I’m frazzled after that 10K run,’ Lana said, stretching into a yawn as she pushed a foot into an Asics running shoe. ‘I’m gonna walk home and hit the sack.’

  ‘What about your Coke?’ Matt asked, looking distraught as Harry tried not to smirk. ‘It’s
dark. Shall I walk you?’

  ‘It’s one block,’ Lana said. Then asked Harry, ‘Are there ever jobs at Vegas Local?’ and followed him down a short hallway to the front door.

  ‘Send me a few samples of stuff you’ve written,’ Harry said. ‘There are definitely times when I could do with a day off, or a bit of help. Ellie used to cover, but he’s busy running sites in sixteen other cities now.’

  ‘I’d be up for anything,’ Lana said.

  She gave Matt a kiss on the doorstep, but there was more gusto in the smile she gave Harry.

  ‘See you guys at school, and don’t forget to message your girlfriend, Charlie,’ Matt said, putting emphasis on girlfriend for Lana’s benefit. ‘She’ll enjoy seeing Fawn looking like an asshat.’

  27 SEXY TOAST

  Charlie laughed like everyone else when someone said their goodbyes to White Boulder, only to violate early release and bounce back a few weeks later. But she couldn’t think of anyone who’d bounced in one week.

  I’m gonna set a world record.

  There’s only a one-in-four chance I’ll go back to my old unit. So it’ll be a new roommate. New pecking order. Please don’t let it be block C with crazy Phyllis starting fights and screaming all night …

  How can I ace a college-level statistics module in three weeks, but crash and burn in the real world? It can’t all be someone else’s fault. There’s got to be something wrong with me. Something obvious that I’m too stupid and pathetic to see.

  The door of the next room slammed hard, making Charlie shoot up in bed, tearful and angry with herself.

  None of the boys on Charlie’s hallway had shown her any disrespect, but they were mostly a couple of years older and their slams, shouts and the ruthless bullying of Jamal set her on edge, even after she’d shut the bolt inside her door.

  Charlie realised she was thirsty as she tried to lie down, and since she was failing at sleep she decided to fetch chilled spring water from the cooler at the end of the hall, rather than warm and chlorinated from her bathroom faucet.

  As Charlie pushed the lever to fill her glass, Brad leaned out of a communal kitchen area, holding a slice of toast.